


More Than Just a Game For Two

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: G - White Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Set of four related drabbles written for the Friday Drabble Challenge over at the lifein1973 lj community. This challenge is to write on the theme of love... without *ever* using the word "love".I liked the idea that love can take many forms, and I’ve tried to explore four different angles here from Sam’s pov. With only the mildest blink-and-you-miss-it slash overtones :).The title comes from the lyrics to ‘L.O.V.E.’





	More Than Just a Game For Two

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).

***

 

 

**L.**

 

 

Listening is something Sam is good at; he’s been on training courses and has the certificates to prove it. But there are no words now, just Annie, her body shaking with anguish and grief, and he feels helpless in the face of a language he doesn’t understand. Uncomprehending. 

 

 

The canteen is in semi-darkness, the staff long since gone home for the day, so he makes a strong cup of tea with plenty of sugar and rummages in vain for a napkin, watching Annie scrub fruitlessly at her tear-stained face.

 

 

Uncomprehending perhaps, but not unfeeling. Silent, he proffers a crumpled hankie. 

 

 

 

**O.**

 

 

Only since being in 1973 has he really understood how much his mum means to him. In his eagerness to return he didn’t think about the terrible burden he left her with in the wake of his rooftop plunge. Only now does he think he should have tried harder to explain that last time; made sure she understood he was happier here, even though it meant leaving her behind. Explained that the past has somehow granted him the freedom to be a better man than he was in the future. But now, thirty-three years before it happens, it’s too late.

 

 

 

**V.**

 

 

Violence, when it finally erupts, leaves Sam with no thought other than to fling himself into the fray, heedless and headlong. But beneath the crest of adrenalin rolls a wave of fear – not for himself, but for the man fighting at his side. Afterwards, riding high and invincible in hindsight, they’ll unwind over a bottle of scotch and the telling of tall tales, the chill all but forgotten. But for now the fear is palpable, a sharp and bitter tang at the back of his throat, and he knows only that his own safety doesn’t matter. His DCI comes first.

 

 

 

**E.**

 

 

Evenings in the Railway Arms constitute a very particular brand of entertainment. Darts and poker. Shared fags and rounds of beer; scoffing at Chris’s dancing and elbow-nudging at _Just Jugs_ , the air thick with smoke and laughter and richer notes of camaraderie. Heat and sweat and a profusion of foul language adds to the miasma; the place awash with borderline alcoholism, incipient heart disease and positively criminal halitosis. A wink at a shared joke; raised eyebrow for Nelson and a port and lemon for Phyllis; a hand on a shoulder in studied carelessness.

 

 

Sam wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.

 

 

***


End file.
